Wilted
by everysecretcode
Summary: Just something I've had running through my head for a while. Constructive critisism is great. Hopefully it's somewhat enjoyable.
1. Chapter 1

I don't claim ownership to the Phantom of the Opera, it's characters, ect. The only thing that is mine is Michelle who is a product of my imagination.

Chapter One:

_(Michelle's POV)_

I had come to the Opera Populaire as a last resort. My parents had died in an epidemic along with my younger brother Michael. I was rewarded some funding from the family estate, but it was a meager amount due to the large doctors bills that came flooding in through out my families demise. I had myself almost succumbed to the illness but it was, be it by fortune or not, caught early and my life was spared.

Mother was a talented singer and in her younger years would take jobs singing in local operas as a back up when the leads would fall ill or leave. I remember the first time that an actual role was offered to her, instead of the usual offer of being a backup. She was quite excited, and seeing her happiness I begged her to teach me to sing as she did. I wanted the same joy and passion that my mother had found in singing. My father, a wealthy business man in his early forties had agreed to allow me music lessons as well as a private tutor. Mother could teach some of what she knew, but teaching was never her strong point. Sometimes I would go to the opera with her on rehearsals, where I was taught by the kinder members of the chorus girls to dance. Now, as luck would have it, I was relying on my voice and my dancing abilities to secure myself a job, a roof over my head, and food in my stomach.

All of these thoughts were washing over me as I held a newspaper clipping in my hand and stood outside of the grandeur that was the Opera Populaire. I looked down at the newspaper clip once more, as if I were afraid that the words would fade and that the chance of a job would be lost. They apparently were in need of chorus girls and leads. I had no hope of securing a lead part, but if I could catch a job as a chorus girl then it was more than enough for me. Weary from days of travel I made my way up the steps. The dark rain clouds in the sky seemed to descend out of nowhere, as did the torrential rains that set in with them.

By the time I had run up to the top of the steps, my carpet bag in tow, I had been soaked through. I cautiously opened the door to the magnificent building and made my way in. It was practically deserted I noticed as I sighed in frustration. I looked at the newspaper clipping again. The only help it offered was the address of the opera house, there were no other instructions. I walked around for a few more moments and decided to go into the auditorium, hoping that there were perhaps people in there rehearsing or that could direct me where to go.

I walked up the steps, increasingly aware of the beauty that this building held. Golden statues were perched, magnificent and mighty, watching over people who would come in and out of the building. The ceiling had magnificent paintings on it, and a beautiful chandelier lit the large room. After what seemed to be hours of walking up the marble stair case I had finally reached the door. I quietly opened it up and was relieved to see the ballet troupe practicing their steps, watched by the careful eye of their mistress. I walked up to the woman, becoming increasingly shy around her and her stern demeanor.

"Madame…?" I asked timidly. The woman turned her gaze from the dancing girls and gave me half a smile.

"Yes, Mademoiselle, how may I help you?" there was a warmth in her voice that made me relax slightly.

"I am looking for the manager's office, Madame. I have heard news that new chorus girls were needed." The woman nodded and asked a pretty girl, Meg her name was, to continue having the others practice. Without another word I was silently following the woman to my destination. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye and I made a quick attempt to tame my wet blonde curls into place.

"We require our chorus members to know how to dance. Have you any knowledge of dancing, Mademoiselle…" she left room for me to announce my name.

"Michelle Blanc, Madame. And yes, I was taught to dance when I was a little girl, though I am afraid that I may need to get in some extra practice to get my muscles used to it again." The woman nodded and stopped in front of a door with the label "Managers" and knocked.

"Come in." came a tired voice from inside. The woman opened the door and the man immediately stood up after seeing us.

"Ahh, Madame Giry. What may I help you with?" he asked eying me as if I were some strange creature from a foreign land.

"Monsieur Firmin. It seems that we have a request from Mademoiselle Blanc to join our chorus." She gave my shoulder a slight squeeze of reassurance when she spoke my name. I watched as the man came out from behind his desk and looked me up and down.

"She is rather thin, sickly if you will forgive me for saying so." I looked at him trying to hide the hurt the statement had caused. I knew that I had not been properly nourished as I only ate when my body cried for food after I had been left alone, but I wasn't aware that I had grown to look sickly. I looked down when his gaze met my eyes.

"You do know how to dance as well as sing I hope." He asked.

"Yes, Monsieur, I do." I looked back up and saw him sigh and look at Madame Giry.

"It is up to you, Madame. You are the one that will be in charge of her while she is here, so it is your decision." I looked over at the woman as she looked me up and down and then gave a small smile.

"I believe, sir, that we have room for one more member in the chorus."

_(Erik's POV)_

Apparently four years after the happenings of my Don Juan Triumphant had not helped to keep the tongues of the young ballet rats from flying out of their infernal mouths. It was still as much the talk of the corps as it was when the theatre had reopened two years after the fire. During that time I had come to terms for the loss in which I had received. It was still painful, but I now knew that I could never have kept her in my world when it would have made her so unhappy. It was a year ago that I had found out about her death. She had died giving birth to a little boy; the next heir in line for the De Chagny fortune. I was of course angry at the news, of the birth, and of her death. I was angry at her for leaving me for that pretty boy noble who eventually led her to her own despicable death. This anger has still not left me, but I take comfort in knowing that in some way, I was revenged. I hated her for who she was, and what she did to me. The anger, hatred, and pain all seemed to combine into one emotion. One of which not even I could explain.

I was and am a monster; cursed to spend my days in lonely solitude and without the hope of ever being loved. The only pleasure I got out of my life now was scaring witless girls, and being a complete nuisance to the two fools that had the nerve to call themselves managers. I remember with glory the day when I had made myself known, once again the fearsome opera ghost. Monsieur's Firmin and Andre had sent several police men back down into the labyrinth that would lead to my home. They did not know, however, that as they had workers rebuilding the outer lair of the opera house; I also had begun to rebuild my kingdom. The labyrinth was now much harder to navigate, not that it wasn't before. There were more traps set and tunnels that would lead investigators to no where, leaving them lost and at the mercy of my hand should I find them. I was the only one who knew how to get through this maze alive, and that was how it was going to stay. The men were never seen or heard of again, spurring up new rumors of the chance that perhaps I was still alive. Even though many believed me to now be an actual spirit, having been killed those many years ago.

I reflected on these thoughts as I watched Madame Giry instructing the ballet rats as to what movements to make and where to go across the stage. Madame Giry was the only one to know of my mortal existence, though sometimes I had thought that perhaps I was immortal as death never would place its sweet hands on me and free me of this horror some call life. Some of the girls, it seemed, refused to do the right movements. I watched with humor as Madame Giry's face became contorted with frustration.

It was then that I saw her; a skinny little thing with blonde hair. She was obviously soaked through from the torrential rain that was made apparent from the beating on the roof of the building and the water dripping from her cloak and golden curls. I watched her with interest as she approached Madame Giry. Her words were just above a whisper, as if she were afraid that speaking any louder would bring down some sort of punishment from God. Some of the ballet tarts toward the back took interest in the girl and started snickering at her outfit. It was black and becoming very worn and tattered, as if this girl had been mourning for quite some time and it was the only bit of clothing that she owned. Her carpet bag was in no better shape, having gathered dirt and grim from a long hard travel.

I followed Madame Giry and the young girl as they made their way to the manager's office. I did not know my reasons for doing such, and blamed it on her voice. Though very soft and quiet, it still had the sweet ring of pure innocence. I had not heard her sing yet, but was finding myself become transfixed to her. Silently urging her to open up her mouth and let the voice come flowing back out.

"Have you any knowledge of dancing, Mademoiselle…" Madam Giry asked casting a weary glance at the girl. Then the girl offered her name, Michelle Blanc. The name I noticed did not quite suit her. Michelle which means "who is like God" did not suit this tired looking creature at all; though I had to admit that her surname, Blanc, seemed to suit her quite well. Her hair was a very light blonde, almost white as was suggested from the name. Her skin was also very pale, a smooth crème color that many women seemed to work rather hard on keeping. I watched as she and Madame Giry entered the manager's office. This girl was quite shy, if not a little scared. She stood there silent for the most part as Antoinette and the bloody manager began deciding her future.

For a moment I had thought that Madame Giry and Monsieur Firmin were going to have the child sing. I had braced myself wanting to hear what her singing voice was like when the voice used for normal speaking was so sweet. When they offered her the job without allowing her to sing I had found it very difficult to keep myself from screaming out in frustration. I wanted to hear her sing, then and now. It was no matter, however, for I decided that I would hear her sing at some point.


	2. Chapter 2

Again, I don't own the Phantom of the Opera. Never have, never will...thanks!

Chapter 2:

_(Michelle's POV)_

"The new renovations have come to accommodate each member of the cast and crew with their own rooms!" squealed Meg Giry excitedly as she led me to my room. After leaving the managers office the woman had led me to her daughter Meg and asked her to show me to my room. I was to start training tomorrow morning at eight o'clock sharp. I was excited, but still fearful that they would take one look at me and decide that I wasn't good enough. Then I would be on the streets again with no where to go.

"That's lovely, Mademoiselle Giry." I said; my voice still barely above a whisper. She turned to me with a small smile as we reached the door that was the entrance to my new room.

"Please, Michelle. I do not like formalities. Call me Meg." I nodded as she turned back around and opened the door. The room was small, but it was beautifully furnished. There laid a small bed made of cherry with a beautiful wine colored comforter on top. In one corner sat a vanity, also made of cherry, with an oval shaped mirror sitting on top. The closet not very large, but I did not have many clothes so that was no matter. And on one wall there was attached a large mirror that stood three feet above my own five foot two inches.

"It isn't much, but it is yours." She quipped happily. I nodded and sat my carpet bag onto the floor and looked around. It was a lovely room. Nothing compared to what I had grown up in, but this was a new life for me; and it was a welcomed roof over my head.

"Thank you, Meg. It's beautiful." I said sitting down on my bed. Meg smiled and walked back to the door and turned around.

"A maid will come by every morning at seven to wake you up in time for rehearsals. Goodnight, Michelle." And with that she left. I sat still on the bed and looked around the room once again.

"A new life; a new home." I sighed and picked up my carpet bag and opened it up looking at its contents. I stood up and sat the bag on the bed, pulling out a brush, two ribbons, three dresses one of which was black, a night gown, and a book that I had been given for my twenty-first birthday. I smiled as I looked at the book. It was Jane Austin's Pride and Prejudice. I set the book, brush, and ribbons down on the night stand and put the dresses in my closet. I looked at the pale pink dress that hung there, practically un-used since my family passed into heaven.

"I can't wear mourning garb forever." I mused to myself as I ran the silky fabric through my hand. I sighed as I brought my hands up to inspect them. They were dirty and I realized that I was in much need of a bath. I opened up the door and to my delight saw Madame Giry walking down the hall.

"Madame Giry?" I called out. She turned around and smiled at me.

"Yes, Michelle? What can I do for you?" she walked back up to me and I lowered my head.

"Well," I started nervously, "I am in desperate need of a bath." The woman nodded and told me that she would send someone to bring in a tub and some hot water and soap. I thanked her and closed my door. I opened the closet once again and saw a small changing screen tucked away in the back. I pulled it out, thankful that I could have an extra sense of security as I bathed and laid it aside. A few minutes later two men brought a tub in as they were followed by several maids carrying large buckets of water from which I could see steam rising. I was excited beyond belief. A hot bath! I would have my first hot bath in three months! I thanked them as they left after filling the tub and leaving me with some soap. I put the changing screen on one side of the tub, as it was placed in a corner which I was very thankful for. I locked the door and walked back to it and undressed, setting my dress and undergarments on top of the screen and my night gown on one side of the tub.

"Thank God…" I sighed as I lowered myself into the blissful warm water. My muscles ached from all of the travel. I had bought a ticket to get me to France from my home in Germany, but the rest of the way was traveled on foot and I found myself sleeping in barns. Just to save myself the precious money that I knew I would need for food.

I stayed in the tub for quite some time, how long I do not remember. But I was refreshed and more importantly; I was clean. I climbed out and slipped the night gown over my head and climbed into my bed. How long it seemed since I last slept in a real bed. I tenderly ran my hand over the mattress and snuggled my face into the pillow. _This is pure bliss._ I thought to myself as sleep overcame me.

_(Erik's POV)_

I had finished making my rounds for the night when I decided to pay the new recruit a visit. As I arrived at the other side of her mirror I saw her step behind a changing screen, the new found wetness in her curls and the shine to her skin told me that she had just finished bathing. I drank up her visage, as the night gown she wore came just below her knees. She was a sight to see, I had to admit to myself. Her legs were shapely, much like those that a full time ballerina would possess. Upon closer inspection, however, I noticed small scratches and I immediately recognized the scratches to be made from hay. Seeing those on such a delicate creature as this girl brought back harsh memories of my past.

I winced at the thought. What would drive this girl to be sleeping in hay, and more importantly, why hadn't she shielded herself with stockings. I glanced at the clothing she had placed upon the top of the changing screen and noticed that the stockings had large holes in them. That explained why her legs were not protected. I turned my glance back to this Michelle and watched as she climbed into the bed. She ran her hand gently over the goose feather mattress, as if it were a lover from her past. This girl, I realized, had been through a great deal. But exactly what I could not know.

She smiled and yawned, then nuzzled her head into the pillow. I stood behind the mirror for what seemed an eternity, until I watched her breathing soften. When I knew that she was finally deep asleep I flipped the mechanism and stepped out. I walked around her bed, as if I hoped that in her sleep she would tell me something about her past. She had a small smile upon her lips as she slept, and then all of the sudden the smile turned to a frown and she whimpered. I watched her, silent and debating with myself on the choice to leave now or to stay. Her whimpers soon turned to cries.

"No! Mama! Papa!" I watched as she thrashed in bed, trying to run away from the horrors that only she could see. It was then that I started humming a lullaby that Antoinette Giry had sung to me after saving me from the gypsies. I watched as she slowly calmed down, and eventually returned to a peaceful slumber.

"Sleep well little Michelle." I whispered to her before I stepped back into the mirror which concealed the passageways to my domain. I closed the mirror behind me and looked upon her sleeping figure once more. I could not place my finger on what it was that drew me to this girl. She was pretty, that was to be sure; but not a ravishing beauty. I had yet to hear her sing, but I could imagine that someone with as sweet a voice as she had when speaking, would have a beautiful voice when singing. That day was to come shortly, but for tonight I had plans to make and new music to compose.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own the Phantom of the Opera...and that makes me sad.

Chapter 3:

_(Michelle's POV)_

"Michelle, lift your leg just a big higher child. There, that's wonderful!" I did as she instructed and smiled at the praise that I received. Today was my first day of training, and Madame Giry had been kind enough to allow Meg to lead the others on stage during rehearsals and to help me get my dancing talents back.

"Lunch will be soon, Michelle. We can continue with this tomorrow if you would like to get some rest." She looked at the clock and clicked her tongue.

"We have been working for nearly seven hours straight. I am sure that you are quite exhausted." She continued.

"Thank you, Madame." I said as I let my leg back down. She nodded with a smile and turned her head looking at me quizzically.

"Michelle, how old are you?" she asked.

"I am not yet three and twenty, Madame." I replied.

"I did not think you to be more than eighteen at the oldest." She smiled at me and put her hand on my shoulder. "Consider yourself lucky, Michelle. Many women would love to appear to be much younger than they truly are."

I sighed and nodded my head. Looking much younger was a hereditary trait in my family it seemed. At least on mothers side that is. Mother looked to be one and thirty when she died, when in reality she was five years older than her appearance. I looked up and saw Madame Giry exit the ballet practice room without another word. I sighed and sat down, warming myself down from the strenuous exercise. I could not believe how long it had been since I had last danced. Even though my body ached, I knew it had done my soul good. I continued to warm down, thinking that perhaps I should call for another bath tonight, and began to sing a simple tune that my brother and I had sung as children.

_Der Mond ist aufgegangen  
Die gold'nen Sternlein prangen  
Am Himmel hell und klar  
Der Wald steht schwarz und schweiget  
Und aus den Wiesen steiget  
Der weiße Nebel wunderbar _

_Wie ist die Welt so stille  
Und in der Dämmerung Hülle  
So traulich und so hold  
Gleich einer stillen Kammer  
Wo ihr des Tages Jammer  
Verschlafen und vergessen sollt _

_(Erik's POV)_

I watched as Antoinette re-trained Michelle with her ballet movements. The girl was graceful, though there were flaws that would easily be improved with practice. I would be damned if this child would dance upon the stage if she proved to be a poor dancer, but seeing this first practice session gave me hope for the girl. I was stunned out of my reverie as I heard Antoinette ask Michelle her age.

"I am not yet three and twenty, Madame." I looked at the girl in shock. She was much older than I had thought. Though Antoinette had suggested that she thought her age to be around eighteen, I had thought her to be around seventeen. This girl was interesting to sum her up in one word. Antoinette had left and I was on my way to watching the rehearsals when I heard Michelle start to sing. The song was German, and from my knowledge of the language it talked of Germany during the night hours. But it wasn't the language or the meaning that spoke to me. It was the passion that filled her voice and dare I even think her soul when she sang. It seemed that I would become a teacher once again, but this time I would guard my heart so that I would not fall again. If I did, then by God, this girl was going to go with me.


	4. Chapter 4

I don't own the Phantom of the Opera...this should be sufficent enough from now on I think.

AN: The roses show the switch into Erik's POV. The squiggly lines indicate Michelle's POV.

Chapter 4:

_(Michelle's POV)_

It had been a week since I had arrived at the Opera Populaire. My ballet lessons were going smoothly and Madame Giry even told me that I would be ready for the next opera with just a bit more practice. I was almost giddy with excitement. As I was making myself ready to leave after practice I had decided that I would watch rehearsals for a little while. My legs ached, but not nearly as much as they had those first couple of days after Madame Giry's lessons.

I sat in the front row, listening to the singers perform. The lead soprano's voice was shrill and I wondered what convinced the managers to keep her on. The rest of the performers were quite good and I found myself enjoying the opera over all. I do not know how long I sat there. I was absorbed in the music and it wasn't until I heard the maestro conclude the session that I came out of my reverie. I looked up and saw Meg talking to her mother. She then turned to me and waved, her gaze quickly followed by Madame Giry who gave me a warm smile. I waved back and a few minutes later I found myself face to face with Meg and a couple of her friends.

"Michelle! It's so good to see you, how are practices running?" Meg asked; her friends talking to each other in the background.

"They are running well, your mother is quite patient with me. For that I am very thankful." I said with a smile. Meg nodded and then turned to her friends.

"I am sorry, I haven't introduced you three yet." She turned back to me. "Michelle, this is Gwen and Charlotte. Gwen, Charlotte, this is Michelle."

I started to stand with a curtsey when the three girls pushed me back into my seat and sat around me. "No need to be so formal with us, Michelle." Said Gwen. I nodded my understanding and the girls continued to talk.

"If La Carlotta does not stop smacking me in that one scene I shall not be held responsible for my actions!" quirked Charlotte.

Gwen laughed and nodded. "I can not see why Monsieur Firmin does not simply hire a new soprano. Surely there will be one that will work without all of the fuss?"

Meg sighed and sat back into her seat. "If only Christine were alive. I am sure that she would have come back despite what all had happened to her here. But I must say that I can not really blame her for never coming back after that night of Don Juan. I can't even imagine how horrified she probably was."

I looked at Meg with curiosity. "Phantom?" I managed to squeak out. The three girls looked at me and nodded; suddenly turning the conversation quite dark.

"Speaking of the Phantom; I still can not believe that fly dropped as such this morning. That gave me quite the fright." Charlotte said looking over the stage.

"It didn't fall by accident, Charlotte." Gwen sighed. "It was him that did it."

I was taken aback. I knew this place had a legend of a ghost behind it, but I did not know that this specter would be the blame for every little thing that happened. "The Phantom dropped a fly this morning? I am sorry, but I can not help but think that it might have been a member of the flies' team just trying to stir everyone into a fright for a moment."

Meg looked at me, her gaze quickly followed by Gwen and Charlotte. All three of their faces, I noticed, had grown pale. "Michelle, do not speak as such about the Phantom. If he overhears you saying that you do not believe in him, then he will get quite angry." said Charlotte, her voice deadly silent.

Gwen nodded in response and continued. "You will always know if it is he, or someone else trying to play a prank on you. He moves with the silence of a cat, and wears the darkest black of clothing to help him hide in the shadows. On his face he wears a mask which conceals his ghastly deformation. Be it his appearance or his ability to move about so quietly that makes him so fearsome, well, the most frightening thing of all is the murders he has committed."

"Come now." I stated. "Surely three young women of your age do not believe in ghost stories anymore. It is but a myth that has caused idle stagehands to take advantage of the gullible."

Meg shook her head and sighed. "Michelle, I am afraid that you are making a horrible mistake by not believing in the Phantom. I just pray that he does not try to prove his existence to you."

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. "Come now, there are no such thing as ghosts!"

_(Erik's POV)_

I watched amused as Meg and her little friends walked up to Michelle and began talking to her. The stage was now nearly empty with the exception of a few stagehands moving the props about. So the conversation was quite easy to hear. At first their chat was nothing but idle non-sense, but then it turned to the fall of the fly I had caused earlier. I watched in glee, wanting to see this child's reaction to hearing about the Phantom of the Opera. To my utter shock I heard her say that the story was a myth told to the gullible. _Me, a myth! We shall see about that Mademoiselle!_ I thought angrily to myself. Meg was right to tell her that she should pay more heed to the story. For her disbelief had flared my temper somewhat, yet another part of me wanted to laugh and congratulate her on not believing that I was actually a spirit. Now, I decided, it was time for me to make myself known to her.

I quickly made my way to my home, wrote out a letter, and then put it on her bed once I reached her room. All I had to do was wait, and see if she would follow my instructions. I was quite sure that she would.

_(Michelle's POV)_

I reached my bedroom and closed the door behind me. It had been a long and tiring day, and Meg, Charlotte, and Gwen had forced me to go to dinner. I wasn't all that hungry, my stomach being used to skipping meals. But once I had gotten the hot broth of the night's soup into my stomach I found that it seemed to send warmth through my whole body; almost as if I had been frozen through.

I walked to my vanity and sat down and began running my brush through my hair when I noticed a letter lying atop my pillow through the mirrors reflection. I sat my brush down and stood, walking to my bed. As I picked up the letter I noticed it had no seal. "Odd…" I said to myself as I pulled the letter out and began to read.

_Michelle,_

_Be in the ballet practice room at 9:00 this evening. I will be waiting._

I re-read the letter. It was not signed, but I figured it to be from Madame Giry. I shrugged and sighed looking at the clock. It was 8:55 and I quickly found myself grabbing my ballet slippers and making my way to the practice room.

Once I had arrived I noticed that it was dimly lit. "Madame Giry?" I called out, but I got no answer; then all of the lights went suddenly out and the door behind me closed. I could hear the distinct sound of a lock clicking and ran as fast as I could to the closed door. I twisted the handle and beat on the wood paneling of the door.

"Help! Let me out!" I pulled as hard as I could at the door, but it wouldn't budge. It was then that I heard a spine tingling, yet beautiful laughter echo through the room. I stopped and turned, pressing my back to the door. "Let me out! Please?" I whimpered, pressing myself closer to the very thing that had me trapped.

"Do not fret, my dear Michelle. There is no need for you to leave at the moment." Said the voice.

I turned back around and started beating once more on the door, yelling at the top of my lungs in hope that someone would hear me. The voice merely laughed at me once more.

"No one can hear you, for they are all tucked away in their beds."

I turned back around and looked through the darkness, trying to see whoever it was in the room with me. It was much too dark since there were no windows in the room to let in even the smallest light of the stars.

"Who…who are you?" I stammered as I reached behind me to try and open the door once more. I would tear the handle off if I had to.

I smiled as she came into the room and looked around searching for Madame Giry. I was watching her from behind one of the mirrors on the wall, one which led to my home beneath the opera house. I made the lights go out completely and quietly came out of my hiding place, carefully reaching behind her to close and lock the door. Being accustomed to the darkness as I was, I could make her out clearly.

"Do not fret, my dear Michelle. There is no need for you to leave at the moment." I said softly. I watched as she turned back around and screamed, trying desperately to get out. I rolled my eyes at her and remarked that no one could hear her. She stopped and turned back around, peering into the darkness hoping to see her captor.

"Who…who are you?" she asked, her voice shaking with fright as her hand reached behind her to try and get the door to open.

"The very thing that you have said that you do not believe." was my only reply as I grabbed her wrist behind her. She yelped and tried to jerk her arm away from me, but my hold was much too powerful for her weak attempts.

"Leave me be!" she cried out trying to run away.

"No, I don't believe that I will." I laughed at her struggles, which were weak though not without effort. She was a small thing, that much I could tell by her wrists, which seemed to have no meat on them at all; much too small to be able to tear herself away from me.

"Please! Let me go!" Her voice suddenly grew even louder, causing me to quickly force her against the wall and cover her mouth with my hand. She apparently had a louder voice than I had given her credit for. It was perfect for singing solo on stage.

"No. You will stop and listen to what I have to say." I heard her whimper in pain from the sudden contact with the hard material of the wall, but held my ground. "You will sing for me. Sing and I will not let any harm ever befall you."

Her eyes looked in my direction in terrified curiosity. I loosened my hand on her mouth just a bit, but held her in place on the wall without being so rough. _She is never going to trust you if you hurt her. You do not want another incident like Christine. _I thought to myself. I watched as she closed her eyes, like a small child believing that if she couldn't see me then I couldn't see her.

"Please sing for me." I requested my voice now gentle but no less commanding. "I can make you great. I know that you have the passion, for I have heard you sing before. With my help you can have the most revered voice in all of France, if not the world."

This was my chance to create something beautiful once again. Though the world will never love me, they will love my creations. My work though the voice of another and my compositions. Dare I hope that it would be Michelle to help me realize this dream? Christine was just a glimpse of that power I held over the voice of a human being. She became an obsession over me, one of which I will not allow to ever happen again. Michelle was my chance to see that power, my work, in full course. If I was lucky I would gain a friend, someone that will trust me and love me for who I am. If the fates decided to be even kinder, perhaps I would gain more than friendship from this woman. I would not put any hope towards the latter, for I am not one that likes to be disappointed.

But, even having this young woman as a friend would be a step forward in living my life without being in complete exile. _But what if she falls in love and marries. You will lose her as you had lost Christine._ I couldn't help but think this thought as I stared at her. _No. _I thought to myself. _That is something that I will worry about if that time ever comes._ I watched as she closed her eyes again as if deep in thought. _But, it's inevitable that it would come. She is not overly attractive, but yet she holds a quality that you know all too well men would like. You shall have to be careful if you do not want to lose her._

"What would you like me to sing?" she asked meekly. I smiled inwardly and backed away. I had just bought myself a new student; and I would be damned if I would allow myself to make the same mistakes with her that I had with my former pupil. If I fall then so will she.


	5. Chapter 5

Yeah, I don't own it…..

AN: Sorry this chapter is so short, but I will begin work on chapter six here soon. I don't know much about singing since I am not a singer myself. So please bear with me here. Also, my spelling is quite horrible if you haven't noticed. Any beta-readers are welcome. If you are interested then email me at Thanks.

Also, much thanks to The Phantom's Shadow for your review! It means a lot to me.

_(Michelle's POV)_

"Michelle, what ever is wrong? You have been so quiet today." Meg asked me as we sat on stage after rehearsals.

"I'm always quiet, Meg." I bent over and unlaced my Pointe shoes, and began massaging my feet through the lamb's wool.

"Yes, but today you are exceptionally quiet." I looked at Meg, her eyes begging me to talk to her. I smiled slightly and regarded my feet once again.

"Meg, there is nothing wrong. I didn't sleep well last night and I am tired. That is all." She nodded her consent and stood up.

"Some of us are going into the city for a picnic dinner this evening in the park. Would you like to join us?" she asked shifting from foot to foot.

I looked up and could feel my face pale. I would have liked so much to join them, but I had voice lessons around the same time with a man I was sure I did not want to make angry. I shook my head and smiled. "No, thank you. I believe I will stay here and practice or at least get some reading done."

I felt terrible when I saw Meg's smile turn into a frown. "Oh, ok. I will see you tomorrow then." And with that she left. I sighed and looked at my shoes, knowing that soon I would have to buy a new pair. Who knew that being a chorus girl would be so expensive? Especially when those idiot managers were having us do almost the exact same thing as the ballet! I was exit to the dining hall for something to eat when a letter came falling from the ceiling, or so it seemed. I narrowed my eyes and picked it up, allowing my gaze to travel to the catwalks as I opened it. I groaned in frustration when I read it:

_Michelle,_

_I must admit that I am quite pleased that you took my orders seriously; and have not decided to go along with your little friends. Do not be late for lessons tonight. I will meet you in your dormitory at 7:00 sharp. _

_Your Obedient Servant,_

_O.G. _

I looked up into the catwalks again and narrowed my eyes. "So am I not allowed to have a life?" I called out towards the darkness. It wasn't until I brought my gaze back to the stage that I noticed a few scene shifters glancing at me with uncertainty.

_(Erik's POV)_

I couldn't help but smile as she read my letter. I was, indeed, very pleased that she did not choose to go with Meg and the other girls. I was about to leave when I saw her turn her glance up to the cat walks.

"So am I not allowed to have a life?" Inside I was laughing. This girl was much braver without me being in her immediate presence than at any other time. Then again, I have had that reaction my entire life. The stage hands all gave her a strange look and I watched as she left.

_I will see you at seven o'clock my dear._ I thought as I receded back into my domain; a world of darkness and music.

_(Michelle's POV)_

I made my way to the dining hall when I heard the clock strike six thirty. I groaned and quickly made my way through the line. Hurriedly, I took a bit of fruit, a thick slice of cheese, and a glass of water; promising to return the dishes at a later time and headed to my room. As I unlocked the door and entered I was pleased to see that I still had fifteen minutes to spare before this lunatic arrived. I sat down at my vanity and hurriedly ate my dinner. A few moments later I heard the flutter of a cape and looked to see a man closing my mirror.

"Oh, dear God." I mumbled my mouth full of apple. The man turned and looked at me as if I had just caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. I quickly swallowed the apple and stared at the mirror. "The…the mirror. What…how?" I knew that my words must have seemed childish, but how often does one see someone enter their bedchamber through a mirror?

"That is no concern of yours, Mademoiselle." He stated as he walked over to me. He was very tall and imposing with his crisp black evening attire. On his face he wore a mask, all of which I hadn't noticed the night before in the pitch black of the ballet room. I quickly stood up and backed away from him as he approached.

"Do not stare at me so, Mademoiselle. I do not like being stared at." His voice again was like ice, and immediately, as if some unseen force was controlling my movements, my head dropped. I stared at the floor for what seemed like hours until he spoke once again.

"Are you going to stand there like a stone all night, or shall we begin our lessons?" I looked up at him again and nodded.

"I suppose the sooner we start the sooner I shall have my privacy again." This statement caused him to stare at me as if I were an unfortunate insect, his foot at the ready to end my life. He sat down in front of my vanity and looked at the plate of food that I had just begun to eat when he arrived.

"A bit of fruit and a piece of cheese; this is not enough. From now on you will eat a good meal. I will not stand aside and allow you to waste yourself away due to malnourishment caused by your own stupidity." I watched his eyes gaze over my form as he said those words, causing me to shift from one foot to the other. When I didn't reply he brought his eyes back to mine and stood up. "Do I make myself clear, Michelle?"

I nodded and backed further away. The man sighed and shook his head. "You can't expect me to instruct you properly with you at the other side of the room. Come here." I slowly made my way to him. My mind screaming at me to stop and run out the door; but somehow I knew that if I had even tried that I would have found it locked. I didn't want to think about what he would have done if I had attempted such a thing.

"Stand up straight." He said as he stood; reaching out to adjust my shoulders. I did as he said and waited for his next command.

"Now, demonstrate how you properly support." I did as he said and received a nod of approval in return. "The support is good. But your posture needs work. Keep yourself standing upright, your chin should be high. Sing to the audience, not down on them. I have yet to see a Prima Donna that doesn't carry herself proudly."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked my voice soft like a child afraid to speak for fear of getting into trouble. I shivered as he glared at me, his eyes boring into mine like a nail being hammered into a wall.

"Would you rather me help you reach your potential or kill you, Mademoiselle. I can easily do either. It makes no difference to me." I stood still as he started circling me and I could feel his eyes on me the entire time.

"It…it's just that…I don't understand why you would care if I became good enough to be a Prima Donna, Monsieur."

"I have my reasons. That is all you need know." I nodded at this statement which he made clear was the end of that discussion. He stopped behind me and adjusted my shoulders once again. "DO NOT SLOUCH! You look more like a monkey than a young lady!"

I was quickly becoming annoyed with this crazed man. I straightened my shoulders once again and he came to stand in front of me.

_(Erik's POV)_

I was beginning to think that she was slouching for the sake of my annoyance. Somehow I wouldn't put this trick past her, but I was not going to let her win this little game.

"You will not slouch at any time from now on. I am everywhere, Michelle. If you do then I will know, and you will be punished for disobedience." I spoke slowly, wanting to be sure that she got the message through that thick skull of hers.

"Yes, Monsieur." She said.

"And you will need to learn how to speak up. How can you expect to allow your voice to soar on stage when you are so quiet off of it?" I watched as her eyes dulled of their usual brightness.

"I am sorry, Monsieur. It is a habit."

"Well, break it." I tried to make sure my voice wasn't too cruel, but it was so easy to intimidate her. It almost seemed like a dangerous game, that I was quickly finding myself enjoying. She nodded her consent and awaited my next orders. I almost felt like I could tell her to jump off of the roof of the opera and she would do it, just to keep away from a punishment she felt so very sure I might grant her.

"Now, sing a scale for me. Start out a low as your voice allows and proceed until you can not continue any higher."

She did as I bid with no question or complaint, but I found that the soul I had heard in her song the night before was not present in the string of notes resonating from her at the moment.

"The sound was lovely, Michelle. But you must feel the notes. Let them consume you. When you sing, all that matters is the music and yourself." I paused and watched as she gave a nod of understanding. "Do it again."

_(Michelle's POV)_

"Do it again." That was always one phrase that I hated. I knew that I probably sounded bored while singing the scale, but what was wrong with it? When there are words, then certainly, that is the time when I feel most alive with the music. I did as he asked, trying hard to pretend that they were the most important things in the world.

He had started circling me again when I was not even half way through the scale. I was about to panic when I felt one hand rest on my collar bone forcing my neck, however gently, to rise higher. His other hand, I felt, he had placed upon my abdomen. Suddenly, I felt the passion of the notes as I sang. I did not hear the boring chords that I had always associated with warming up. Instead I heard a beautiful song, and I tried with all my might not to lose the passion that the chords had strung up inside of me.

That passion was quickly wilted when he stepped away from me.

"That was very good, Michelle." He paused and adjusted his already impeccably straight cravat. "That will be enough for tonight. Get some sleep, my dear." And with that he was gone. I had barely enough time to realize that he had left the same way he had entered; through the mirror.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: I don't own the phantom of the opera. Also, thanks to ThePhantomsShadow, Kay Blue Eyes, and Renegade (Kurt! You silly goose!) for your reviews. I apologize for this chapter coming so late and being short. I've had a lot going on with little time to write. I also do not think it is as good as my others. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Six:

_(Michelle's POV)_

Lessons had gone on as usual for a week, each day becoming longer and more tiresome than the previous. Recently it had been well past midnight before he left, allowing me only a few hours sleep before the next day's activities. Meg and the other girls had never forgotten me when they were doing something special at night, though I had never obliged their requests to join them. I knew this hurt their feelings, but how could I tell them of my lessons? I couldn't very well tell them that the opera ghost was my tutor. I would be locked away as a mental patent.

How I wanted to direct some very unladylike curses towards the ill mannered, psychopathic, man that now seemed to hold my life in his very hands. Even without him being present, he was still able to control my actions. I had become reclusive; afraid of what he would do should I attempt to disobey him. This caused many people to keep their distance from me, yet at the same time it had made me the central conversation piece with the ballet rats' gossip.

It was six thirty in the evening and we had just been released from Madame Giry's toughest practice session yet. She was obviously in a fowl disposition, yelling even at Meg for tiny mistakes that only she was able to point out. I had seen her in a bad mood earlier that week, but couldn't imagine what would cause her to be on such a rampage. Across the stage from me were a few other girls who were also warming down. I could feel their eyes upon my lone figure as they gossiped.

"That girl is going to be an old maid. I mean, look at her! She is plain as a wooden crate and not the most sociable of people if I say so myself." Henriette Petit sniggered to the few girls that would listen. She was the lead singer in the chorus, a year older than me, and prone to making snide comments about those whom she believed fell below her standards. Lately I had been her favorite target and could only try to ignore her during rehearsals when she would snicker at me.

I sighed and continued to warm down; listening to the girls talk about me as if I were not on the same country, much less in the same room. Henriette smirked as she heard my sigh and cast her cold blue eyes upon me.

"What are you sighing about? I only speak the truth." Her voice was full of menacing laughter and as sharp as a butcher's knife. "You know," she continued, "you have already fallen out of favor with much of the opera. Why do you not leave? You are nothing more than a waste of perfectly good space!"

I closed my eyes, determined not to allow them the privilege of seeing me shed tears. What she said had cut me to the heart. And I knew who was to blame. I opened my eyes again and looked at the clock on the wall, seething with anger. I stood there for a few moments; fully aware of their intense gazes watching my every move. I quickly regained my demeanor and picked my belongings up, making my way to my room. How dare he ruin my life in such a way! All I wanted was to start life anew somewhere and possibly have the chance of being happy again. He had dashed that away, all in his hopes to use my voice for his own twisted dreams whatever they may be. I couldn't truly believe that he tutored me for my own benefit. Where there is a service, there is usually a price.

_(Erik's POV)_

I had only just arrived through Michelle's mirror when she had burst angrily into the room. We stopped and stared at each other at the same time.

"You!" she screeched, pointing her finger at me. "You ruined any chance I had ever had for having a normal life again!"

"Be thankful that you have been allowed to live a normal life at all you insolent little wretch!" I growled, my anger being fuelled by her loose phrasing of that insufferable word. The one word that would haunt me until the day I die. I watched, not really pleased with the look of hurt on her face, but more triumphant that I had gotten her to stop in her tracks. "I can give you the world, Michelle. What do you care of those little girls out there?" I pointed to the door to emphasize my meaning.

"They wanted to be my friends." She ground out angrily. "And yet I can't allow them too because of your ridiculous demands on my time!"

I slowly stalked towards her until I was but a few inches away. I looked down at her, using my height to my advantage. "My demands are not ridiculous. And you are an insufferable little heathen to not be thankful for the future that I am offering to you!"

"You talk of the accomplishments that I can reach! What is in all of this for you?" I watched as her eyes burned with anger.

I sighed and looked down at her, silently pleading her to understand. "This I can not tell you, Michelle." My voice was soft, trying desperately to calm her down. "In time I will, or perhaps you will understand on your own." I saw her visibly relax, pleased that my voice hadn't lost its desired affect on certain people. I dreaded the day when she would learn to resist it. She nodded slowly and I stepped back.

"Now we start your lessons." I said circling her, making sure she held her posture properly.

The next day I was somewhat irritated to not see Michelle at rehearsals. I had waited nearly half an hour, scanning the stage from my seat in box five and even haunting the cat walks hoping to see her somewhere backstage; but she was no where to be found.

"I knew she would leave sooner or later." said one of the chorus girls that I recognized to be Henriette Petit. I waited a few moments later to figure out exactly whom she was talking about.

"It's odd though…" countered another girl. "I wouldn't expect Michelle to just up and leave." I felt my heart stop at these words and left as Madame Giry approached the girls. I didn't linger to hear what she had to say, I had to know for sure if Michelle had left. I quickly ran through the passageways to her room, praying to any deity that would listen that the girls were wrong about Michelle's apparent departure. I stopped as I reached the backside of her mirror and cautiously looked into the room.

Michelle was, thankfully, still there. I gave a sigh of relief but suddenly noticed a doctor standing above her bed and checking her temperature. Monsieur Firmin was by the door way.

"It looks like the beginnings of Scarlet Fever." The doctor said slowly. I watched in worry as I heard Michelle try to clear her throat. "I suggest bed rest for at least a week, possibly longer. She is not to be disturbed and she needs plenty of liquids." He said turning to Monsieur Firmin who had an obviously agitated look upon his face. With that the irritated manager nodded and left, apparently to tell the cast and crew about Michelle's illness.

"You'll be fine, Mademoiselle. Just make sure to get plenty of rest and drink a lot of liquids. I will check up on you at the end of the week. Also, try not to be in any close contact with anyone. We don't want this to spread." The doctor said kindly. With that he turned around and left.

I waited until I felt it would be safe before I opened the mirror and stepped out into the room.

"Scarlet Fever." I said simply. Michelle opened her eyes and looked at me. I could see the pain radiating through her orbs. She nodded and closed her eyes once again. I slowly made my way to her bed and picked her up. She shook her head no and motioned to her throat then to me.

"I would rather catch it myself than to allow some doctor who knows not of what he is doing treat you." I said simply as I made my way to the mirror. I was mentally screaming at myself to stop and put her back, that it was idiotic to take her into my labyrinth. These worries were soon driven away when I heard her try to clear her throat again.

The journey to my home was quiet save for the occasional sound of Michelle clearing her throat. During the journey she clung on to me as a small child would and tiredly rested her head against my shoulder. I noticed that she was careful not to breathe on me by facing her head the other way. It warmed my heart to know that she did not want to make me sick as well. We finally reached the lake and I gently placed her into the gondola. She looked around, fascinated, at her surroundings.

When we had finally made it to my home I heard her give a short intake of breath. She looked at me and I could tell that she wanted to say something, but I shook my head.

"No, you need to rest your voice. Do not speak." I stated simply stepping out of the gondola and turning to pick her up. I carried her to the Louis-Phillipe room; a room that I had not ever expected another being to reside in. I held her in my arms as I pulled back the covers on the bed and laid her down.

"Get some rest. I'll come back to check on you in a little while." I said, pulling the covers over her. She nodded tiredly and I turned walking out of the room. I looked around, memories of that room and my home holding a different girl flooded my mind. Nothing to remind me of Christine was there any longer. I had long ago burned the drawings and wedding dress that I had made for her. All the remained was the ring that she had given me before she had left with that boy. Now, I realized the obsession that filled me with her. I knew that if I was not careful that this obsession would reach Michelle as well. This was a thought that greatly vexed me.

I sat down in my chair and smiled slightly as Ayesha jumped up with a short meow. I stroked the cat lovingly and pondered on my future actions. I had some medicines stored away for such illnesses as the Scarlet Fever, but thought that I might have to conjure up a new batch due to the others age. I shook my head and looked at Ayesha, my little queen, who stared at me knowingly. For so long she had been the only woman in my life, even Christine had been somewhat jealous of her at one point. I knew that Ayesha detested Christine, and wondered if she would hold the same hostilities toward Michelle.

"Do not pass judgment on her so quickly, Ayesha." I stated simply. She purred and nudged her head against my hand. I watched as the feline jumped down and made her way to the Louis-Phillipe room. She turned and looked at me and gave a short meow.

"No, Ayesha." I said. My little queen stuck up her tail and wondered in the room anyway, much to my frustration. I decided to leave her be and walked off to prepare a medicine for Michelle. Scarlet Fever had been known to take the lives of many, and I was going to do anything without my power to make sure that Michelle wasn't in those numbers.


End file.
